


Trying to Kill the Moon

by honkahonkaburninlove



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Demon Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Gen, George and Callahan are mentioned, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghosts, I mean he's dead, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Karl is stuck in time thats why he's not here, Kinda, Possession, glatt, oh shit lol 'i see dead people'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honkahonkaburninlove/pseuds/honkahonkaburninlove
Summary: Karl's missing and Sapnap's lost in his own head, leaving Quackity alone in their newly built home of Kinoko Kingdom. He quickly figures out that he isn't as alone as he thought.-a cut scene from something I'm writing but too proud of to entirely delete.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Trying to Kill the Moon

Quackity sat at home with his head in his hands and waited for Sapnap to come home, hopefully with their colourful third member who had been missing for two weeks in tow. Sapnap left hours prior dressed in his usual attire, although he had forgone the white bandana typically tied across his forehead. It hadn’t been apart of his daily dress in a long time. The bandana, Quackity noticed, was tied around the handle to Karl’s personal library. When asked why, Sapnap answered “If it ends up back on my dresser, then Karl came back,” before reaching up to where the bandana would normally rest on his head. He gave Quackity a playful smile. “I oughta start wearing my horns with pride, don’t you think?”

Quackity laughed at this. Sapnap took his leave, kissing the top of the avians forehead and exiting their home. Where he intended to go, Quackity didn’t ask. He knew Sapnap wouldn’t answer that question.

In their home, there was a fairly large bar cart just off the counter. Sapnap had insisted on it— for entertainment purposes, of course, as none of them actually drank. Seltzers and fine liquors alike were shelved on the cart alongside beautifully cut glassware. The display was as beautiful as it was expensive. They had both George and Callahan over the night Quackity finally moved in, evidence of the night apparent in the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the cart. Callahan did love his whiskey.

A draft pulled Quackity from his thoughts. Looking to the windows, however, he saw they were shut tightly with the curtains drawn. The front door, too, still shut and locked. There shouldn’t be any winds from the evening air coming in. Quackity stood from his position on the couch and made his way over to the curtains. Another chill ran down his spine.

“I always liked Callahan.” A voice called out in the room. It’s source unknown, Quackity looked to the front door again.

“Sapnap?” He tried. Had he returned home? There was no sign of anyone else in the home.

The voice returned. “He’s so silent and dutiful. He follows that cute little mushroom prince of yours like a puppy.”

“Karl?” Quackity called out. “This isn’t funny, man!”

Quackity was startled by the sound of shaking. The glassware on the cart clacked together haphazardly, threatening to fall off from where they rested. He noticed the whiskey bottle get slightly lifted off the cart. Using his wings, Quackity boosted toward the cart, afraid the glass might fall and shatter. The whiskey bottle fell to the side, still on the cart. The cart in its entirety ceased shaking.

“ _Fuck_ , that is harder than it looks.” The voice came back, less intimidating than before. The air turned from cold to freezing. Quackity’s wings wrapped themselves around his body on instinct. Beside him, Quackity felt a presence suddenly appear.

“You know, you’d _think_ being dead would have its perks. But what’s the point in being spectral when I can’t even pour myself a glass of whiskey?”

A tall pale man stood to the side of Quackity closest to the bar cart. He wore a grey pinstripe suit and had a disgruntled look on his face. Framing his head, Quackity saw a set of familiar curved horns. If he stared hard enough, Quackity could see the pictures hanging on the wall through the ghostly figure.

“Jschlatt?” Quackity gasped, shocked.

The phantom figure let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to face the avian. “There goes my terrifying entrance. I was gonna do this whole thing and pour myself some whiskey, freak you out a little. I finally figured out how to go tangible, too. Wilbur, that bastard, wouldn’t tell me how.”

Quackity pulled his arms to his chest, his wings following the movement. Jschlatt flashed Quackity a crooked grin. “Aw, c’mon now,” he said, “ain’t ya glad to see your good ol’ boss? You wound me, Quackity. I thought we had something special.”

“Wilbur? Tangible?” Quackity mirrored, brain catching up. “What? You’re supposed to be _dead_.”

Schlatt let out an exaggerated sigh. “Right,” he strutted over to where a calendar was hanging behind the cart. “How long has it been since I kicked it, huh? Must’ve been long enough for you to whore yourself out. Two boyfriends? Was I not good enough for you?”

“You were terrible.” Quackity scolded. “You hurt me; you destroyed an entire country. How was that good enough?”

Schlatt only scoffed. He continued gazing at the calendar. Quackity hesitated before continuing.

“And they’re my _fiancés_ ,” Quackity muttered. Schlatt turned from the calendar at raised a brow at the winged man.

“Fiancés?” Schlatt mused. He walked back from the calendar on the wall and gestured to the bar cart. “Well, now,” he said, “as your former boss—” he grabbed two shot glasses and the bottle of whiskey— “and ex-lover, allow me to offer a celebratory drink.”

“It’s my alcohol,” Quackity lilted, crossing his arms as Jschlatt set the glassware on the counter.

The ram uncapped the whiskey and placed it next to the glassware. Turning to face Quackity, he gave a malicious smile. Quackity instinctively took a step back and lowered his gaze.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Schlatt walked slowly toward Quackity, his stare strong. “there isn’t a heaven or a hell. It’s three strikes, right? Once you’re out, you wake up in this dinky little void. No day, no night, no nothing. There’s no telling how long Wilbur and I spent walking in circles. There’s no warning when the next poor shmuck gets his ass thrown in. And worst of all,” his head gestured to the counter where the whiskey was, “there isn’t a place where a guy can get a drink.” Quackity’s back pressed against the counter, trying in vain to escape Schlatt’s harsh stare.

“I wasn’t asking, Q,” he continued, “now, be a doll and pour us a drink.”

An intense gust of freezing air showered Quackity’s body. He felt himself stagger two steps ahead. His body went numb, wings retreating back behind his torso as he saw his own hand grab at the bottle and shakily pour out into the shot glasses. He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t in control over himself.

The feeling subsided just as suddenly as it began. Quackity’s body shivered violently as Jschlatt reappeared on the opposite side of the counter.

“What,” Q whispered, looking at Schlatt with wide eyes, “what was—”

The deceased man smirked down at Quackity’s trembling frame. “Classic possession. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon. We’ll be business partners and all. Practice makes perfect.”

“What do you mean we’ll be ‘business partners’,” Quackity asked, eyes narrowing. “I don’t have plans for anything.”

“Not yet you don’t,” Schlatt answered. “I’m here to remedy that. Have another go at things.”

“What, like you have unfinished business and that’s why you’re still around?”

Schlatt nodded in acknowledgement.

“I took this life and you saw what I did with it,” the spirit said, gesturing his hand as though he held a lit cigarette. “No one thought of me as a pious man, that’s not who I was. Every vice against the Good Book— I smoked, I drank, gambled as though I had nothing to lose.” He had the gall to chuckle. “Lived my life in vain.”

Schlatt, in all his ghostly glory, strutted to where Quackity’s exhausted figure stood behind the bar. A chill ran through the avian’s wings. He could only watch in horror as his own arm reached for the shot of whiskey in front of him.

“Schlatt, no--”

“Ah ah ah,” Schlatt murmured against his ear. There was no breath to be felt. “You were such a good cabinet member, Quackity.” Quackity felt his arm raise against his will and bring the cold glass against his lips. The stench of alcohol stung his eyes. “So obedient.”

The younger man shut his eyes as his body went frigid. Numbing cold shocked his spline as his head tilted back allowing the liquid to burn his throat. He could hear Schlatt cackle in that cruel way of his. It echoed in the back of his mind. Quackity forced his own hands down to grip the edge of the bar, knuckles turning white with how tightly he held the edge. The small glass clattered against the glazed tabletop but remained intact, teetering a tad too close to the edge. Jschlatt released the hold on Quackity’s body and watched in sadistic amusement as the winged man coughed and coughed at the intrusion.

“Why,” Quackity rasped, voice breaking toward the end, “are you still _here_?”

“Do you remember,” the horned man said, “when you desecrated my tomb? You disrupted my peace, Big Q! And what makes it even better is that I’ll be here until your last breath.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. Somehow, Quackity knew that it was not a kind smile. “That’s on you, tough guy. _You ate my heart_!”

Jschlatt roared in laughter. Quackity sunk to the floor, his wings sheltering his body as if they alone could protect against the ghostly man. Schlatt took the other glass in his left hand, light catching on the metal band still worn on his finger. He lifted it up to the ceiling and nodded to Quackity’s shaking figure.

“To our future. Together once again,” he cheered. “ _Salud_ , Quackity.”

Quackity watched as the horned man downed the shot. He sobbed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was gonna be a scene in this super long thing i was working on, but the subplot didn't tie in to the main plot as nicely as i wanted, so i scrapped this entire Jschlatt possessing Q arc thing from it. i might make this into a whole thing. idk. 
> 
> Iol let me know what u think


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